A Misunderstanding
by satan-chillin
Summary: Dean and Sam suspected that the local ob-gyn was a shapeshifter who was preying on pregnant women. It was a pretty terrible misunderstanding.


It was rarely just salt and burn these days.

Well, it was, two days ago, until lingering in the same area after what was supposed to be the only case in town somehow jinxed the miraculously earned solo time he and Dean had planned for the rest of day before hopping back to a long road trip back to the bunker. Sam had his suspicion that the two hours, tops, spent on the case was too good to be true.

A missing person case that could be easily dismissed as non-supernatural was around for three months in the town was connected to a fresher case of another missing person. The victims were both pregnant women in their last trimester who went missing from their bedrooms one night, their distraught husbands reporting the disappearance the following morning after completely missing the whole kidnapping incident, though official toxicology reports on both men cleared them of any kind of sedative.

Sam and Dean had visited Mr. Lowell, the husband of the new victim, yesterday and took his statement. Mr. Lowell mentioned a pretty mundane day-to-day, aside from the scheduled monthly visit to the ob-gyn, which wasn't much to go on. Sam had spent the previous evening scouring the internet and the bunker's digital archives for what creature could possibly be connected with the specific types of victims like pregnant women, for example.

Sam's all-nighter proved to be fruitful when he stumbled upon Asian lore that talked about shapeshifters called _Aswangs_, wherein a particular subtype of it was called _tiktik_ and was known for feasting on unborn fetuses. He hadn't immediately called it a night after noting that, one, _Aswangs _were native to the Philippines and there was never a case involving them this far beyond the Pacific; two, it was only the unborn fetus that was eaten and never the mother.

They were checking for every meager lead they have when another pregnant woman was reported missing the night previous. With nothing panning out so far, Sam and Dean visited a stressed Mr. Costa who recounted almost the same event: falling asleep with his pregnant wife beside him without noticing anything out of the ordinary, only to wake up without her the next day. Toxicology said that he wasn't drugged either.

With some difficulty, Mr. Costa managed to recollect the events within the past few days, which was almost the same with what Mr. Lowell said about a nice morning stroll in the park, going out in sudden errand to indulge the missus's odd food craving—Dean might have rolled his eyes at that—and visiting the ob-gyn for the monthly prenatal checkup.

Sam got a nagging suspicion that turned out promising after a brief check.

Because of course, it made sense that a shapeshifting creature who was eating unborn babies would pose as an ob-gyn. Smart, actually, if not for the fact that it was a dead giveaway.

Asking around about the local ob-gyn, Linus Myrddin, wasn't as difficult as they expected from a pretty tight-knitted community who seemed to keep among themselves. The neighbors held Linus in a positive light that even the elders commended the man's manners. Young mothers liked the man enough that they only have praises for the person who had been with them in the past five years. Heck, some said Linus didn't mind looking after some kids as well. Once Dean was sure the ob-gyn was putting a lot of effort to be in the townspeople's good graces, he was convinced that Linus was hiding something.

When they met the man in person, however, Linus was far from the portly middle-aged man Sam somehow expected him to be, and who Dean might have thought of a creature's human form at worst and a local pervert at best.

Linus was, in fact, a young man with startlingly arresting blue eyes that twinkled when he smiled at them in greeting.

"Linus Myrddin," Dean said. He cleared his throat, shaking past his mild surprise and introducing himself and Sam as Agent Jeffords and Agent Boyle respectively. "Should we address you as Doctor?"

"Thank you, but there's no need. Call me Linus." He gestured at the two seats across him that Dean promptly refused with an excuse of 'just a quick visit'. "Alright. To what do I owe the visit?"

Sam let Dean in the questioning, listening as Dean mentioned that the two pregnant women were Linus's patients who visited him the day they went missing. Sam watched Linus at the background for any telling tick but got none other than a worried frown and a thoughtful look on his face. Linus was pretty agreeable in the line of questioning and seemed eager to help. Either he was completely innocent or he was an excellent liar, Sam decided.

Sam glanced around the spacious office connected to the clinic with a wall of opaque glass separating them. There were thick volumes of encyclopedia and books that delved on subjects that were, er, _heavy_ for light reading. They looked like first editions; Sam knew the look after browsing the bunker's own collection.

When Sam went over another shelf, he noted with fascination that they were all on the Arthurian lore.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Linus," Sam heard Dean said as he reached for a calling card. "Call us if something turns up that might help. We appreciate it."

"I'll hand you mine." Linus reached for a sticky note and searched among his drawers for a pen. Sam, finding it an opportunity, lent him a silver pen that Linus took gratefully before writing down his contact number. "Here. One's my telephone number, and the other my cell. Both personal so you can reach me even when I'm home."

* * *

"So," Dean said the moment they were outdoors. "Shapeshifter is out of the equation."

"That's one."

Dean raised a brow. "You have more?"

"Do we have a choice?" Sam pointed out. "I'm actually leaning on something… magical."

"Not that I'm saying that's impossible, but do you mean like a magical sacrifice that involved a pregnant woman?"

"I'm thinking it's about the matter of soul." Sam was obviously stabbing blindly in the dark here, though Dean wasn't dismissing him just yet. "Babies are vulnerable and all that."

"And the mothers?"

"Bonuses?" Sam replied unsurely. "It's all theoretical so far."

"Right." Dean parked to the motel. "You think it might be a witch then. Think he's the witch?"

"As I said, it's all theoretical. I mean, I probably won't be surprised. He could… look the part."

"Lemme guess, you found some witchcraft book among those things you've been feeling around the office."

Sam rolled his eyes. "None at a glance. Besides, why would you put that kind of book in plain sight?"

"A newbie mistake." Dean said something else afterward that sounded like 'Duh'. "Nothing we haven't encountered before."

Still, a newbie who dabbled in witchcraft might be less effective but could be quite as deadly as those who practiced it for years.

"If he does practice witchcraft, he _should _have an altar." Sam tilted his head thoughtfully. "At his home, at least."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah, but he'll be closing shop in—" He checked his watch, "ten."

"Not if you distract him."

"What?"

"C'mon, man. It'll be easy, You're practically drooling on his collection. Strike up a conversation and maybe you'll pry something out of him." When Sam refused to relent, Dean tried again. "We can cross him out of the list immediately, if ever."

* * *

Sam scowled at the Impala once it roared away. Whatever. At least it wouldn't be him who broke and entered for nothing.

"Oh, hello, Agent. Boyle, is it?" Linus found him first ambling at the front steps not long. "Did you forget something? And where's your partner?"

"He went on ahead. Something about an epiphany or whatever," Sam said with a faint shrug.

"And he left you?" Linus looked amused, locking his clinic behind him.

Sam let out a wry chuckle. "Years of working with him make you get used to it."

Linus nodded, walking beside Sam at a deliberate pace. He wasn't getting rid of Sam yet so he took it as a sign that Linus was seriously considering his company.

"This might sound out of the blue, but I saw your books and, wow. You read a lot, doctor?"

"Yep. I tend to do a lot of light reading if you will. No harm in reading too much, I'd say." Linus grinned at him. "Did you linger just to ask about my books?"

Sam tended to be bad at winging it sometimes. "Ah, no. Not really."

"Frankly, I don't really mind if you're here to invite me to a book club." Linus pocketed his hands. "I ought to go out more and make friends. I think."

That was a curious thing to say for someone well-liked. "No book club, I'm afraid, but I do keep a list of connections whom I can borrow some sources from," Sam lied smoothly. For a moment, he had a feeling that Linus allowed him the segue. "That is, if you don't mind sharing your mini-library when the need arose, doctor."

"First, I'm all about sharing. Knowledge needs to be put out there and given to those who seek it," Linus said sagely. "Second, it's Linus to you, Agent. I never truly warmed into my doctorate degree, to be honest."

When Sam smiled it wasn't out of keeping up an appearance, and he reconsidered his theory that this was the bad guy they were looking for. He held the thought for the meantime. "No surprises there. With that plenty of books on King Arthur, I would have thought you also hold a degree in historical literature."

A wistful expression flashed across Linus's face, though Sam couldn't be sure what it was while they both walked. "Undergrad. I made a sudden turn to gynecology for my Dad."

The corner of Sam's lips twitched in understanding. They both didn't speak, and Sam wondered when would Linus send him away since Sam still didn't make it clear why he was tailing the man. To his surprise though, Linus led them at the pub a block away. Did he have his suspicions?

"I'm aware this isn't a social call, Agent," Linus said knowingly. He didn't even look mad or irritated. "You want to ask more about my patients, aren't you? I'm not supposed to share any patient information about them." He sighed. "But I want to help."

"Right. And I suppose you can in a non-professional environment."

Linus looked sheepish. "Not professional, I know."

"Trust me, my partner and I are pretty flexible with that concept."

* * *

Sam diverted his gaze elsewhere as Linus was greeted with smiles from the bartender and most of the few patrons inside while they treated Sam with mild suspicion after seeing the agent twice in the same day.

"Sorry about them," Linus said once they were sitting. Sam waved the apology off. "Ask away, Agent."

Linus was forthcoming on answering any of Sam's inquiries, confirming that the three women were indeed his patients who were expecting their first child after being married for at least five years. It was an odd tidbit that Linus shared, but Sam took note of it nonetheless.

Suspicions aside, Linus was an excellent conversationalist for someone of his age, though at some point Sam wondered the man was older than he looked with all that expansive knowledge and the glint of wisdom his eyes occasionally showed. Sam wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, but it wasn't helping either any of his and Dean's assumption if he was truly a witch with a penchant for infant sacrifice.

By the first hour that seemingly flitted by, Dean texted him an _all clear _and saying Linus's house was lacking any signs of witchery. Dean told him he was on his way to talk with the husband of the first victim.

"That's Agent Jeffords, I presume?" Linus asked knowingly when he noticed Sam on his phone.

"Lead didn't pan out," Sam said. Well, it was a half-baked theory at best. "This might sound weird, but is there any odd occurrence in this town before the first disappearance?"

"Weird how?"

Sam hummed noncommittally, opening his hands. "Any kind. Like _any._"

Linus raised an eyebrow. "The supernatural kind?"

"You have those?"

He sighed. "None at all. But I'm glad that federal agents are open-minded to those as well."

They parted half an hour later, with Sam excusing himself after Dean texted him that they regroup at the motel. Linus bid him a pleasant evening and good luck on the case.

* * *

When Sam arrived in his shared room with Dean, however, he was gearing to head out on a hunt.

"Good. Get ready," Dean said, reloading his gun with witch-killing bullets.

"Wait—I thought—"

"Look, I wasn't lying. But I found something else in his home as well." Dean threw him his phone displaying multiple photos.

There were pictures but not of a witch's altar. It was a pinboard of newspaper clippings that followed the disappearances. Though what made Sam zoomed in was the two photos on the bottom left corner of the board.

It was a picture of him and Dean.

Sam sighed. So much for that rapport.

* * *

They've been both silent on the ride to Linus's home. The lights were out when they arrived, and they entered the house with guns ready. Checking both floors yielded no signs of Linus.

Dean clicked his tongue in frustration. "Dammit."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think he bailed on us. His things are untouched and there are no bags."

"What then? He's waiting in a safe house until we leave this town?"

"Of course not."

Sam and Dean whirled to the source of the voice. It was Linus suddenly standing in the living room by his fireplace.

"Alright. That's it. What are you?" Dean growled.

Linus raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to hear your theories on that if you'll indulge me."

"You're not human," Sam answered, his hands holding the gun not wavering a bit from their focus on Linus—or whoever the hell this one was.

Linus snorted. "That's rather offensive. I _am _human, though not exactly a regular one."

"You're a witch and that's not exactly the same as 'humans' in our book," Dean gritted out.

Linus sighed. "Oh, dear. That's a rather black and white code there. You've heard of white witches, yes?"

"You're saying you're one?"

"No, not at all. Warlock, actually, but yes, I have magic as well."

"A witch. And very clumsy one at that."

"No, _warlock._ There are differences." Linus moved from his position, raising his hands in a placating manner as he sat down his couch. "I don't suppose you're here for a chat, Agents? Good work on the vengeful ghost, by the way."

"Tell us why we shouldn't kill you right at this moment," Dean barked.

"Just because I have magic doesn't mean I'm the one responsible for those pregnant ladies who went missing." Linus frowned and heaved another sigh. "I guess I _am _responsible for my patients, but, no, I'm not the reason they went missing." Linus jolted when a bullet was fired by his feet. He scowled at Dean, though if Sam took the time to examine his expression, there was no heat there. "Really?"

"Speak more cryptically, and I won't hesitate to go for your head next," Dean threatened. "What did you do to them?"

Sam thought for a moment before deciding to lower his gun a bit, much to his brother's utter disbelief. Sam supposed it would be up to him to keep the situation from escalating quickly. "Look, Linus. Magic aside, you raised some red flags when you kept pictures of us pinned on your bulletin board."

Linus blinked, an understanding dawning on his face. He looked sheepish. "I'm kind of tuning in as to where you might be present." Because that wasn't ominous at all. "I mean, I was looking for you because I've been meaning to hire your services."

"Our services?" Sam asked confusedly.

"Hunters, right? And you know the case." Linus glanced away. "I could handle it, but with the issue persisting, I believe a more… aggressive approach is needed. My magic isn't suited for that."

Dean let out a derisive laugh. "You want us to do your dirty work."

"In crude terms, yes," Linus answered coldly. "I'm unable to take a life, human or otherwise, with my magic."

That was the first Sam heard of that rule. "Why?"

"Are you familiar with equivalent exchange? It's similar to that. Life is a life no matter what."

"Tell that to zombies," Dean retorted.

Linus actually huffed out a chuckle at the poor joke. "Killing a living creature with the use of my magic also means death for me. And I can't die just yet."

A part of Sam confirmed that Linus has been around longer than he appeared to be. Sam was aware that he was the more sympathetic between him and Dean, and sure, Linus was clearly hiding something big, bigger than the case, if Sam dared to say, but it was tremendously difficult to fake one's somberness.

Sam tucked his gun away completely. Dean was fuming now when Sam nudged him to do the same.

Linus told them of his own investigation that led him to the woods a couple of miles outside the town. He mentioned stumbling upon a nondescript hut earlier and promptly left upon sensing foul magic that surrounded the perimeter. Linus admitted to refraining to prod on the magic he had felt lest he attracted the other parties involved if ever there were more than one. It was upon returning home did he came across Dean and Sam.

"I believe it's a witch with enough aptitude for the dark arts," Linus said.

"And the babies are for sacrifice?"

"I'm thinking for food."

Dean made a face. He remained guarded than Sam, though he was listening, at least. "A cannibal witch?"

Linus shook his head. "Not hers. I told you that I have my suspicion that she might not be working alone. I'm thinking the fetuses are for them, and so are the mothers."

Jesus, Sam thought. He'd had his fair share of sickening encounters in his years of hunting but this one was particularly revolting. Dean seemed to think so as well. "You're not talking about _tiktik _and _Aswang,_ are you?"

"As a matter of fact, I am." Linus tilted inclined his head. "I've been to the neighboring town which is a little farther to the woods compared to this town, but it might as well be a diversion tactic. The people there mentioned a Filipino Family of three who relocated there a month ago. I know it could be an unfortunate coincidence, but_.._."

"And there couldn't be like, I don't know, an American version of them?"

"No. I'm afraid they're native and usually keep among themselves. They're rarely this far." Linus frowned. "The witch is their food supplier. I should have noticed the odd thing about those pregnant women when I checked up on them: the children they carry were touched with a spark of magic. I had attributed it to a forming soul, but apparently it was from the witch who the couples approached to help them conceive. Once the fetuses were large enough for food, they were ripe for the taking of _tiktiks._"

Dean made a face of disgust and fury.

"You think the family has a symbiotic relationship with the witch," Sam suggested. It was bad enough when they came in groups; they also had to make alliances with a dark witch.

Linus smiled wryly.

* * *

"You trust what he said?" Dean whispered when it was just him and Sam and the open trunk of Impala. "Doesn't it seem so convenient to you?"

"Sure, he's not clear yet as to why he couldn't possibly be this dark witch he's suspecting," Sam allowed. "But I have a feeling that he could have killed us earlier if he wanted."

"Doesn't mean he won't try again. Could be a trap."

"Could be, Dean," Sam agreed grimly. "But, hey, we always come out okay after knowingly walking in a trap."

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's optimism but didn't refute his point. "Fine. Any weird movement and I'll be the first to put a bullet in him."

Sam shrugged. "That's fair."

* * *

Linus met them downstairs five minutes later, wearing what seemed to be a brown tunic and trousers and a red scarf wrapped around his neck. He looked like a manservant in the medieval era.

"I didn't know we're going LARPing," Dean deadpanned.

That looked like it too, Sam supposed.

Linus didn't look any bit offended, rather amused at Dean's statement. "I'm in the mood for costume."

* * *

It was barely half an hour of driving when they reached the outskirts of the woods at eleven in the evening. Linus marched ahead of them, murmuring a simple spell that produced a small ball of light, with Dean and Sam following him closely behind.

Approximately ten minutes later, Linus stopped and asked them to stay back. Up ahead, the hut was already visible with faint firelight coming from inside. Linus whispered a spell that had his eyes glowing gold. There was a sound that was akin to breaking glass, and just like that, Linus told them that the barrier was broken.

The light coming from the hut was snuffed out ominously.

"Get ready," Linus suddenly said. "I can sense something approaching."

Loading the shotgun with rock salt, Dean waited for any movement within the vicinity. Sam flashed his flashlight wildly and came up empty.

A shriek broke in the air.

"Up in the sky!" Linus hissed.

Three winged-figures flew overhead, resembling large bat-like creatures that were unlike the brothers encountered before.

"Hit any part of their bodies with salt," Linus instructed firmly. "I'll find their other halves."

Sam had no time to whirl at Linus confusedly before he registered that those were flying torsos in the air, sweeping down on him and Dean at a rapid speed with their sharp claw-like fingers. Sam fired a few unsuccessful shots and hissed in pain when one of them managed to scratch on his shoulder.

"Sam!"

"I'm fine!" Sam yelled reassuringly.

"Where the hell is Linus?"

"Finding their bottom halves."

Dean ducked to a thicket, narrowly dodging a sharp swoop. Sam followed him in the same direction after avoiding a slicked tongue that was about to wrap around his neck.

"We got ditched, didn't we?" Dean growled after several minutes of no Linus and running out of rock salt bullets fast.

Sam didn't deign him an answer because yeah, that was possible and Sam was so close to believing that.

Until the shrieks above turned shriller that had their ears ringing and the _Aswangs _flew away to the direction where they saw Linus vanished.

"He found the other halves of their bodies so they're going after him," Sam stated, panting. He was on his feet within seconds, hauling Dean to stand. "Magic or not, there's too many of them for one person."

* * *

They arrived to Linus, and upon realization, it appeared that he didn't need the help at all.

A flash of Linus's golden eyes and a strong whirlwind knocked the three creatures. Unperturbed and barely running out of breath despite the display of powerful magic, Linus beckoned Sam and Dean closer to the three severed lower part of bodies which, under the faint light, looked like bottom halves of mannequins, except they were bloody and reeked of rotting flesh. Dean and Sam disposed of them by salting and burning while Linus stood there, grimly watching the fire roast the human flesh and shushing something—or rather, someone behind him that they didn't notice earlier.

There was a crying boy behind Linus who stared at the hunters fearfully. Linus was quick to cover the kid's eyes as Dean methodically beheaded the winged creatures.

When Dean spotted the little boy, Sam noticed that he was immediately rigid, his jaw fixed and a complicated look crossed his features. "Victim?"

Linus nodded. "Supposed to be before we came. They've been… hungry, I think," he said lowly.

"We got here in time, at least," Sam said. He gave the kid a small smile. This was the greater victory than the creatures' deaths.

"Can you stay by him for a few minutes?" Linus asked. "There's still the matter of the witch."

"Don't you think she already escaped while we're distracted?"

"No, she couldn't," Linus said surely. "I made sure of it."

In the end, it was Sam who was left with the boy, and Dean was the one who refused to let Linus out of his sight, unwilling to completely let go of the idea that Linus could still possibly double-cross them. Sam knew it and let him be. Extra carefulness couldn't hurt.

"Just so you know, I won't ask you to kill her after," Linus said.

Dean merely raised an eyebrow at him. "And risk her running amok after? Please."

"I thought it's already clear that I won't let her."

"Without putting a bullet in her. How exactly will that work?"

Linus sighed. "Not everything is all about killing, Mr. Winchester."

"Sometimes it's all that's left to stop it."

Linus looked wistful. "I suppose that's just as true."

Dean's warning bells should have been ringing given how calm Linus was taking it all in a stride, and yet he found it contagious, the laxness. And for a moment, Dean felt safe with someone he barely knew who also happened to be a witch no less.

Once they were at the front door of the hut, Linus turned to him and said, "She shouldn't be able to move, but I'd still like you to stay behind me, Mr. Winchester."

Linus opened the door without much fanfare, and what greeted them made Dean pause and _look_.

Tendrils of golden binds were restraining an old woman who has the appearance of what a witch should be: a crooked nose, frazzled gray hair, a skin full of warts, and wearing a voluminous black robe.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Dean asked when Linus made a gesture with his fingers, allowing the binding around the witch's mouth to slack.

"I intend to ask her motive. We won't be harmed."

Frankly, Dean was becoming irritated at how Linus was being certain of that. Linus stared at him and sighed, understanding without any explanation needed.

"Alright," Linus relented. "Let me take care of her first."

Linus approached the old witch and laid his palm on her forehead. The old witch trashed against his touch futilely until a bright glow of light bathed her head that Dean would have likened to an angel's smiting if not for the fact that a) it wasn't the same kind of holy light and b) Linus wasn't an angel.

Was he?

"I won't kill you, but you've hurt people and I can't allow that. I'll let the right authorities put you on trial for your transgressions," Linus stated, removing his hand and gently setting the old woman down on the floor as the magic that held her receded.

"Holy shit," Dean muttered.

"Nothing holy about it, I'm afraid," Linus said, standing.

"What did you do?"

"Erased his aptitude for magic."

"How's that even—"

"It's the simplest term I could think of," Linus interrupted softly. "I didn't make her forget magic; she'll remember everything, but she won't be able to learn it again."

"And you can do that?" Dean exclaimed incredulously because what the hell? "You mean your limitation is harming anyone with your magic. That's it?"

"As far as I know, yes," Linus said like he simply answered an inquiry about the weather. "A thousand years seems not enough to explore the full extent of my abilities."

"Sounds about ri—oh." Dean blinked. "Did you just say a thousand years?"

Linus laughed.

* * *

The police were quick to detain the old woman, charging her with kidnapping and triple homicide. Dean, Sam, and Linus escaped the scene once the latter erased the traumatic encounter from the boy's memory, knowing that the authorities were yet to be prepared for the supernatural aspect of the case.

"So, that's job well-done," Linus said. "How much do I owe you?"

"You're seriously paying us?" Dean nudged Sam. "Sam, give him a figure."

Sam pulled a face at his brother. "There's no need, Linus. We don't take compensation in the job."

"Says you," Dean shot back. He rolled his eyes when Sam made another bitchface. "Fine. He's right. We've never been paid other than thanks."

"Well, thank you then," Linus said gratefully after a good chuckle. "Since you refuse any kind of payment, take this instead."

He handed them each a calling card with a number and a name that didn't even list Linus Myrddin.

"Who's 'Emrys'?" Dean asked while Sam frowned at the name and began to think that he heard that somewhere.

"Me. It's my druid name," Linus chirped. "The cards are enchanted. Tear them if you're in a really tight spot and… I'll come where you are no matter what."

"Like, _poof _and then you're there?"

Linus grinned. "Something like that. You'll see."

* * *

It wasn't even until the midnight of the evening of their return that Sam's screech of "We just met Merlin!" rang within the bunker.

* * *

**End**


End file.
